


shadowstitch

by rhymeswithpi



Series: limit break [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Cake, Gen, Headcanon, More angst, Pre-Canon, Touch Aversion, iggy is a bit of a mess, like you expect anything different from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24503029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhymeswithpi/pseuds/rhymeswithpi
Summary: Insomnia’s population would never recover if someone dared to deny Iggy some cake.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum & Ignis Scientia
Series: limit break [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/684894
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	shadowstitch

**Author's Note:**

> this has been sitting in my WIP folder for something like three years and all it needed was a freaking title  
> so here you go

Iggy likes cake. Actually, ‘likes’ may be an understatement. Iggy fucking _loves_ cake. No matter how much he tries, Noct can’t wrap his head around this _one thing_ . Iggy, with his button-up shirts and obnoxious tie and bowl cut and constant nagging about _eating vegetables_ has a secret sweet tooth.

It makes sense, probably, in some back corner of his mind. It’d be more absurd if Iggy _didn’t_ like sweets. Anyone wound that tight has to have some outlet for it all or everyone they meet would end up dead.

Insomnia’s population would never recover if someone dared to deny Iggy some cake.

For now, though, it’s nice to just sit here in relative silence. Noct loves these moments, really, these little stolen bits of time when Iggy isn’t rushing off to yet another meeting or trying to do fifteen things at once. Time together, just them, no obligations. It’s been increasingly rare of late, harder to find the time to sit down and just _be_.

He might be a bit infatuated. Not that either of them will ever admit any of this out loud. Saying it makes it a thing they have to _talk_ about, a thing they have to break down into every tiny little detail and analyze before ultimately arriving at the conclusion they’ve both already reached.

Whatever they have going on, it can’t go any further than this. There’s hundreds of reasons why they _can’t_ just be together, hundreds of excuses they can make to justify being as close as they are, but Noct keeps coming back to one.

Iggy doesn’t like being touched. Hasn’t for _ages_ , really, ever since Noct came back from Tenebrae years before. It’s still baffling.

But Iggy doesn’t flinch away from him. It’s _only_ him, too. Iggy lets his guard down when it’s just the two of them, lets himself be a _teenager_ for a change. Occasionally he’ll even convince Iggy to play Oracle Quest and eat junk food, and they’ll stay up ridiculously late. Too late for Iggy to bother going back to his own apartment, not when it’s easier to just curl up on the couch. It would be _easier_ if Iggy would just share the bed with him, but that remains a line they’re unwilling to cross.

The morning after is always an exercise in misery, but those nights are _always_ worth it.

The days after Iggy comes back from what he only ever describes as “training” are the worst, when he’s shut off and quiet, when all the walls are built ten times over.

Cake is the only thing that ever makes him smile on those days.

Which is how Noct got to this point, sitting across the table from Iggy, watching as he picks away at a tiny little cake. Clarus dropped it off earlier in the day, just like he _always_ does when Iggy is off doing whatever it is he’s doing. It’s the first sign that Iggy will be back soon.

Clarus knows something, and no one seems to think Noct should know what it is. _Everyone_ seems to know what’s going on, but no one ever gives a straight answer when he asks where Iggy is.

And he has asked. He’s asked every time Iggy’s disappeared for the last _five years_. Some people just give him the vague ‘training’ excuse. Others at least pretend to be creative and claim he’s off chasing spiracorns.

Gladio, at least, seems just as uninformed as he is. If nothing else, there’s _one_ person who’s just as confused by Iggy vanishing for days at a time, but Gladio doesn’t know what Iggy’s like when he comes back. Gladio doesn’t get to sit here, wondering what the fuck is going on. He’d like to ask him about it, too, but there’s never a good moment to do it. They’re hardly ever properly _alone_ , and once Iggy comes back they both seem content to just not talk about it. Why does _no one_ talk about it? Who decided not talking about it was a _good idea_?

Noct has no clue what to do to make this easier. Iggy’s clearly been through _something_ , something he always refuses to talk about, refuses to even acknowledge. He was gone for four days this time, and it shows in his face. Did Iggy even sleep before coming over? Has he slept at all while he was gone?

The cake may be the only thing keeping Iggy awake, actually, but they have a routine and Noct isn’t willing to break this bit of peace. Even if he _is_ concerned about what Iggy’s mysterious ‘training’ entails. Iggy will pick away at the cake while Noct stares at the vegetables he’s shoved off to the side of his plate. Eventually, he’ll stand up and clear his plate, wash the dishes while Iggy finishes, then they’ll sit with a careful distance between them on the couch and watch some mindless movie. Iggy falls asleep propped up against the arm of the couch, and Noct tucks a blanket around him before sneaking off to bed. The next morning, Iggy wakes up early enough to make breakfast before ushering Noct off to class, and everything is back to normal by the time he gets home again.

Except Iggy looks _really_ tired this time. More exhausted than Noct has ever seen him, worse than when he was in the middle of final exams _and_ sitting in on endless hours of meetings every day of the week - meetings Noct should’ve been attending. He looks _fragile_ , and it’s not a good look on him. Not that there’s really a good way to look like he might break if someone touches him.

He’s clearly favouring one arm, keeping it tucked close to his chest. It’s easy to study the way Iggy moves in this moment, when they’re so used to _not_ talking that he can get away with staring. He can hear the quiet catch in Iggy’s breath every so often, notes the subtle tremor in his hands. Iggy may be good at hiding what hurts, but Noct has had _years_ of experience watching for the signs.

Iggy is not okay, and there isn’t a damn thing he can do to make it better.

Not talking about it is the worst decision they’ve ever made, Noct is certain of that much, but it’s too late to even try. He’s pretty sure Iggy wouldn’t even realise he was talking at this point. It’s easier to just clear his plate, wash the dishes. Stick with the routine, with the _familiar_. Iggy probably needs familiar.

He turns back from the sink, ready to put in the same mindless movie they always watch, but Iggy hasn’t moved to the couch yet, head down on the table, last bites of cake abandoned. Noct watches for a long minute, shoves the urge to shake Iggy until he answers at least _one_ of his questions down somewhere with the rest of the terrible ideas he’s ever had.

And then Iggy snores.

Well, the routine is out the window, then, and there’s no point trying to stick to it. He knows better than to try to wake Iggy up, would do anything to avoid seeing Iggy panic like that ever again.

Except the table is a _terrible_ place to sleep, really, especially hunched over like that with nothing to put his head on. And if experience is anything to go by, Iggy is dangerously close to falling out of the chair and probably hurting himself _worse_ in the process.

Iggy looks up at him.

“Come on, Specs,” he mumbles. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Iggy hums something, doesn’t resist as Noct hauls him to his feet, wraps an arm around Noct’s waist to keep himself upright. This isn’t something they _do_ , they don’t touch like this. _Iggy_ doesn’t touch like this, not outside of sparring matches. Even then, it’s always other people initiating the contact. Iggy doesn’t _do_ this, and that’s not helping Noct worry any less.

The trip to his bedroom takes forever. Iggy stumbles every few steps, and Noct waits for him to regain his footing before they take another tentative step forward.

Noct briefly thinks about trying to convince Iggy to change into something more suited for sleeping, writes it off as the _worst_ idea he’s had tonight, worse than demanding answers or refusing to give Iggy the cake.

There’s something satisfying about the way Iggy looks curled up in his bed, blankets drawn up to his chin. Noct wants to crawl into bed with him, wants to make sure Iggy is ok, but it isn’t something he can just _do_. Iggy needs sleep. That much is obvious. Tomorrow they almost definitely won’t talk about this, will pretend none of this happened and move right along with their lives.

Noct sighs and wanders back out to the living room. Staring at the homework he’s been ignoring for the last few days probably won’t help, but at least he can _try_ to distract himself from how worried he is. Not that studying can solve any of his problems.

Neither can the essay he’s been putting off, or the reading he hasn’t done. After the fifth time he starts the page over, Noct gives up. There’s no point to this, not when there’s a million more important things on his mind than the history of Lucis. He drops the book on the table.

He shoves away from the table, flops onto the couch. There’s nothing good on tv, either, nothing that can keep his focus for more than a few seconds before his mind slides right back to Iggy sleeping in his bed.

Mostly _why_ Iggy is sleeping in his bed, instead of sighing in that way he always does when Noct isn’t giving something the attention it deserves.

Noct just wants to know what _happened_ , what the fuck Iggy’s training involves that makes him like this. He can accept that Iggy can’t always be there to clean up his messes and make sure he actually eats something. Even when Iggy’s gone for a few days, there’s always _someone_ to make sure he gets up in time for school, someone to drive him back after. They just aren’t Iggy, because Iggy is off getting hurt and doing everything he tells Noct not to do.

He peeks in on Iggy, still exactly where he left him, and wanders back to the couch. He’ll just have to trust Iggy to let him know if he needs anything, the way Iggy trusts him. For now, it’s easier to just let him sleep.

It’s barely even _dark_ outside.

Fuck, it’s going to be a long night.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> and now to disappear and reappear in another three years with fic


End file.
